“Good God!” said I, at the mere idea;
in a tone which frightened Lorna.
“Fear not, John,” she whispered sadly,
and my blood grew cold at it: “I have means
to stop him; or at least to save myself. If you
can come within one day of that man’s getting
hold of me, you will find me quite unharmed.
After that you will find me dead, or alive, according
to circumstances, but in no case such that you need
blush to look at me.”
Her dear sweet face was full of pride, as even in
the gloom I saw: and I would not trespass on
her feelings by such a thing, at such a moment, as
an attempt at any caress. I only said, “God
bless you, darling!” and she said the same to
me, in a very low sad voice. And then I stole
below Carver’s house, in the shadow from the
eastern cliff; and knowing enough of the village now
to satisfy all necessity, betook myself to my well-known
track in returning from the valley; which was neither
down the waterslide (a course I feared in the darkness)
nor up the cliffs at Lorna’s bower; but a way
of my own inventing, which there is no need to dwell
upon.
A weight of care was off my mind; though much of trouble
hung there still. One thing was quite certain—if
Lorna could not have John Ridd, no one else should
have her. And my mother, who sat up for me, and
with me long time afterwards, agreed that this was
comfort.
A GOOD TURN FOR JEREMY
[Illustration: 318.jpg Illustrated Capital]
John Fry had now six shillings a week of regular and
permanent wage, besides all harvest and shearing money,
as well as a cottage rent-free, and enough of garden-ground
to rear pot-herbs for his wife and all his family.
Now the wages appointed by our justices, at the time
of sessions, were four-and-sixpence a week for summer,
and a shilling less for the winter-time; and we could
be fined, and perhaps imprisoned, for giving more
than the sums so fixed. Therefore John Fry was
looked upon as the richest man upon Exmoor, I mean
of course among labourers, and there were many jokes
about robbing him, as if he were the mint of the King;
and Tom Faggus promised to try his hand, if he came
across John on the highway, although he had ceased
from business, and was seeking a Royal pardon.
Now is it according to human nature, or is it a thing
contradictory (as I would fain believe)? But
anyhow, there was, upon Exmoor, no more discontented
man, no man more sure that he had not his worth, neither
half so sore about it, than, or as, John Fry was.
And one thing he did which I could not wholly (or
indeed I may say, in any measure) reconcile with my
sense of right, much as I laboured to do John justice,
especially because of his roguery; and this was, that
if we said too much, or accused him at all of laziness
(which he must have known to be in him), he regularly
turned round upon us, and quite compelled us to hold
our tongues, by threatening to lay information against
us for paying him too much wages!
